Drawing Out Truth
by LBibliophile
Summary: The Marauders are known for their pranks, but sometimes these cross the line between funny and very unfunny. After an ill-considered prank on Sirius, they discover just how far the consequences can reach. There are some things you just don't joke about.
1. Chapter 1

_My first serious Marauder-era fic. I had an idea for a prank and thought I'd see what I/they could do with it. I have about 3 more chapters to come._

 _Disclaimer: As the name of the website suggests this is a work of fanfiction, Harry Potter is not mine._

* * *

Familiar whispering voices fill the darkness, slowly drawing him out of a deep sleep.

"Wow, you're good at this."

"I dunno, I think that line over there needs to be a bit more curved though."

"Shut up. It's not like it's the easiest surface to work on. I'm just glad I don't have to try doing it with a quill."

He feels a faint tickling on his left arm and twitches, drifting closer to wakefulness.

"Hurry up Moony, he's going to wake soon."

"Well if you two would just keep your voices down… I'm almost done."

"I can't wait to see his face! I can't believe you actually got the idea from Lily."

"Well she did say that it was a fairly standard muggle prank, but I like our version better."

Their tone is familiar; seems like the other Marauders have decided on an internal prank this morning. Curious, Sirius yawns and sits up, looking at the friends standing beside his bed. Peter is watching him in anticipation, Remus is struggling to hide a smile while fiddling with some sort of small plastic tube, while James…

"Good morning!" Sirius looks at his best friend, raising an eyebrow at his 'I'm so innocent… not' face.

"Good morning to you too. And what are you all doing up so early?"

"Well…" Remembering the tickling feeling from earlier, he follows Peter's gaze to his left arm lying on top of the bedcovers.

What.

He feels the blood drain from his face. It is like a scene from his nightmares. His bare arm is pale against the red covers, except for a patch on his inner forearm. A matte black skull grins up at him, a shadowy snake writhing obscenely from between the jaws, twisting around itself. The Dark Mark.

"No! Get it off, get it off!" He scrabbles at it with his other hand, trying to push it away, scrape it off. It can't be the Dark Mark, he wouldn't… not ever… not even his family could make him.

"Sirius!" Arms wrap around him to hold him still; another pair of hands grab his, pulling them away from where blood is beading up from the scratches on his arm. "Calm down! It's not real. It was a joke, it's only ink. You can wash it off."

He shudders as he relaxes back into the encircling arms, panic slowly fading from his mind.

"So not funny, guys." His friends look at each other guiltily.

"Sorry. Um… I guess we should have stuck with a moustache after all…"

###

James and Remus sit on Sirius's bed carefully not looking at each other. They hear the sound of the tap running in the bathroom, and the low murmur of voices. The water turns off and there is silence for a moment before the voices start again, the tone getting increasingly frantic. The water comes on again, harder this time, and they hear vigorous scrubbing. Then, silence. Peter walks out of the bathroom.

"Um, guys… we have a problem. You know how we tested the marker to make sure the ink would wash off? Well, it's not."

Remus frowns.

"Did you try..." Peter cuts him off.

"We tried water, we tried soap, we both tried _scourify_. We've tried everything we can in there bar actually peeling off his skin. Sirius is freaking out again and I'd better get back to him before he decides to give that a go. If this was an extra part of the prank you didn't tell me about..."

Leaving the threat unfinished, Peter returns to the bathroom. The two boys left behind look at each other in worry and confusion.

"I didn't, did you..."

"Of course not, and we tested it..."

"What went wrong?"

"…"

"…"

"He's going to kill us if it's stuck there."

###

Unfortunately, over the next few days the boys discover the drawing is just as resistant to concealment as it is to removal. The strongest glamour charm they can find lasts barely half an hour before the lines start showing through, while more creative attempts prove to be equally useless. Even the makeup they nick from the girls to try and cover it up only dims the image, and leaves obvious residue with a tendency to rub off on clothing.

While continuing to search, Sirius resorts to more mundane methods. On the weekend he avoids his muggle t-shirts. He wears his uniform shirt sleeves down and buttoned – and hates that he now understands why such a style is fashionable – rather than rolling them up for Herbology and Potions. When washing his hands he makes sure that the bathroom is empty, and he is constantly aware of how his sleeves move to ensure his cuffs never rise high enough to reveal the dark ink beneath. He can only be thankful that his year's sorting ratio makes his friends his only roommates.

His friends are sympathetic and – after profuse apologies – help remind him when he unconsciously goes to push his sleeve out of the way, but he can't help feeling they don't understand just how serious it is.


	2. Chapter 2

Sirius shifts uncomfortably, feeling eyes watching him. It is a sensation he has become sensitive to over the last week; in the corridors, the Great Hall, and even the common room. He is constantly aware of his arm and the secret his sleeve covers, and has a nagging certainty that everyone else must know too, seeing through the fabric to the dark mark blemishing his skin. The feeling has become so bad that he can't concentrate, distracted by every movement or whisper, until, fed up with his twitching, the Marauders had retreated to their dorm.

Sirius shifts again and looks up, only to find that James is indeed staring at him, or rather, his arm. His heart skips a beat. Can he see it? Is even fabric not enough anymore? Who else saw? He looks down too, and releases a breath at the sight of his plain white shirt. His secret is still safe. Suddenly his relief turns to anger and he glares at his friend.

"What? I'm trying to write an essay, here."

James lifts his eyes, a familiar gleam burning in their depths. Normally the look excites him, the sign that a prank is being planned, but given the circumstances…

"I've been thinking, we should make use of that." He nods towards Sirius' arm. "I mean, imagine their face if you showed it to some of the Slytherins. A Gryffindor wearing their Lord's Mark while they have to wait. Think about your brother, or Snivellus! Or you could pretend to be a Slytherin yourself. Oh, there are so many ways we could do this."

Sirius stares at him incredulously. Does he really think…? Peter opens his mouth to add his own suggestions, but is quelled by an icy glare. Then Sirius explodes.

"Are you crazy? Or are you really so stupid as to think I'd go along with that? You don't understand; even with the war, it's still a game to you guys. But half my extended family is Marked, and most of the rest are either waiting until they are old enough or at least are still sympathisers. I was almost disowned at Christmas for speaking against them, but if I showed them this it would all be forgotten; they'd even forgive my being Sorted into Gryffindor. But I don't want that; I hate my family and I hate their stupid blood prejudice! They'd all be delighted at me taking their Lord's Mark, but I got it from a stupid prank! Don't you get it? This Mark is everything I swore I'm not. And you want me to show it off for a laugh."

He slams his book shut, the crack loud in the shocked silence.

"Now excuse me, but I'm going to go and finish my studying in the library." He glares at Remus, causing him to sink back down again. "Alone."

With that, he shoves his papers into his bag and storms from the room. He mutters about immature, insensitive, traitorous friends, feeding his anger because otherwise… he might just start to cry.

###

Sirius is sitting is a back corner of the library. His textbook is open on the table before him, but the fight earlier has driven away any chance of actually studying.

He knows they should tell a teacher. That is the rule; a prank goes more wrong than they can fix themselves, they call a teacher and accept the punishment. But this time he can't. Telling would mean showing someone the Mark. It is not that he is embarrassed, as such. After all, he didn't do anything. It is his friends who were stupid enough to use such a symbol for a simple prank, he was just their victim. No, what he is afraid of is the looks.

It doesn't matter which teacher they go to, even McGonagall, he knows what the reaction will be. With anything else they would think 'What prank have the Marauders gotten themselves into this time?', but he knows that as soon as he shows them the Mark, it will be 'Black is finally showing his true colours'. He doesn't think he can stand that moment when they see him only for his family.

Besides, it's not like the prank needs fixing that urgently. Yes, wearing the symbol makes him feel nervous and slightly sick. And yes, if anyone saw it there would be significant consequences. But they are managing. They've successfully hidden it so far, and they'll work out a way to remove it eventually. After all, it's not like it's hurting anyone. It's just a drawing, nothing more.

Decision made, Sirius relaxes, only now becoming away or a strange prickling in his left arm. Absently he scratches at it, but the feeling remains. A sudden sense of premonition surges through him and he freezes, looking down at his hand where his fingers instinctively sought the origin of the feeling. The inside of his forearm. Right over the Mark.

He quickly checks that his corner of the library is still clear, then returns his gaze to his arm, watching as if in a trance as his fingers inch down to unbutton his cuff, rolling back the sleeve to reveal the image beneath. He shudders, forgetting his earlier rationalization. The Dark Mark. It does not seem to look any different, but then, he has avoided looking at it as much as possible. The prickling feeling vanishes, and for a moment he feels a surge of hope. Maybe it was nothing, just a hallucination brought on by paranoia.

Then, pain. Daggers stabbing into his forearm, burning and freezing in equal measure. Instinctively, Sirius grabs at it, pressing his hand against the Dark Mark although whether to block it or soothe it he isn't sure. He bites his lip to hold back a cry as Dark magic washes through him, leaving trails of searing acid. The world around him fades from his awareness.

Some time later – probably only minutes though it felt like hours – the pain subsides, gone as quickly as it appeared. As his muscles relax, trembling sets in; not so much a reaction to the pain, but fear. He knows what this means.

He can remember his cousin Bellatrix grabbing her arm in the same way, a strange expression of exultation on her face, just before half a dozen people disappeared from a family gathering. Voldemort was calling his Death Eaters; a call which, somehow, he felt as well.

Panic rises in him but he shoves it away, ruthlessly suppressing the little voice which is gibbering in terror, crying that he is Marked, Marked with the ultimate sign of betrayal. No. It was just a prank, just Muggle marker. He is not and never will be a Death Eater, his subconscious fears are making him imagine things. He grabs at his sleeve and pulls it back down, covering the symbol; out of sight, out of mind.

###

The second time it happens is late at night; Sirius is drifting in that shadowy world half way between waking and sleep. It starts slowly. A faint prickling sensation drawing him out of his comfortable haze. As his awareness grows, so too does the pain; a burning heat building in his forearm, sending tendrils of fire shooting towards his shoulder. Instinctively, he curls into a ball, arm clutched to his chest. His face, he buries in his pillow, trying desperately to smother any sound that might alert his friends.

Hours later he is still awake, curled in the same position though the pain has long since receded. He doesn't want to sleep, he wants to wake up. He wants to wake up and discover that it was all just a dream. A paranoid nightmare brought on by his arm itching – just an itch, nothing more – that day in the library. Or maybe the dream was longer than that. Maybe he will wake up and his arm will be bare, and his friends will be offended that even in a dream he thought they would play such a prank on him.

Somewhere along the way his exhaustion takes over, his wishful imagining merging into dreams. When he wakes, it is to the stark reality of a black skull grinning on his arm.

###

In an attempt to avoid notice the Marauders continue to mostly keep to the dormitory when not in class or at meals; prompting speculation as to what new prank they are planning. While this does keep them out of view of the school, it does nothing to ease the tension within the group. By the time the day of the full moon comes a week later they are all feeling antsy. Remus is being his normal pre-transformation hormonal self, James is frustrated by Sirius' continued cold shoulder, Peter is twitchy that someone will see the Mark, and Sirius… Sirius is not good.

He still hasn't told his friends about the pains in the Mark they gave him. For that matter, he's tried to avoid thinking about it at all, refusing to consider what it might mean. Yet still the thought eats at him. It is almost as though he can feel fate bearing down on him; indifferent and unavoidable. He had rejected his family and all they stand for, and yet here he sits in his Gryffindor dorm room with a black skull grinning on his forearm.

Sirius' heart clenches as he feels the now-familiar prickling in his arm. Please, not here, not now. Trying to hide his panic he rises, unobtrusively making his way towards the bathroom; hoping that he can ride out the call in private, without any of his friends realising.

He makes it half way to the doorway before the pain hits, fiery lances causing him to stumble and collapse onto the bed beside him. He grits his teeth as waves of pain crash through him, cries of panic echoing in his ears, his friends rushing over to surround him.

The pain is as strong as before, but this time his awareness remains.

"Sirius!"

"What's wrong?"

"… can you hear me?

Sirius is vaguely aware of someone pulling his fingers away from his arm, revealing the throbbing Mark beneath.

"… look at the drawing, it's all inflamed."

"Guys…"

James peers over Sirius' shoulder, puzzled frown forming.

"Could it be an allergic reaction, to the marker ink or something?" Remus shakes his head.

"No, if that was the case, it shouldn't just flare up like this, weeks later and out of the blue."

"Guys…"

"Still, probably best to get Madam Pomfrey to have a look at it. After all, it's one thing if it just won't come off, but if it's hurting him…"

"Guys!" The two boys finally turn to look at Peter. "Enough. This is not just any prank gone wrong, and it's not just any drawing. It's the _Dark Mark_ , and now it's starting to act like it, too. We need to tell Dumbledore."

The pain is fading again, and Sirius looks up at his friends, the fear finally showing in his eyes. He still doesn't want to, but anything is better than this.

"I think so too."


	3. Chapter 3

Half an hour later the four boys find themselves sitting in the Headmasters office, shifting nervously on their chairs as Dumbledore twinkles at them across his desk. After the usual offer of sweets – only James and Peter accepting –an awkward silence had descended, none of them wanting to explain what had happened. One too many darting glances at Sirius later, Dumbledore gives them an opening.

"Well, my boys, what have you gotten up to now? It's not often that you are the ones to request our meeting. Normally, I receive the details from Professor McGonagall; at full volume."

Sirius swallows, drawing up his Gryffindor courage – because, yes, he is Gryffindor not Slytherin – and leans forward.

"Please don't freak out, but I need help."

Taking a deep breath, he reaches down and bares his left arm, forcing himself to ignore the livid mark revealed to focus instead on Dumbledore's reaction. It is then that he sees how deeply entrenched in their society the war truly is.

The usually carefully controlled mask of affability slips, giving away more of the man's thoughts than perhaps he realises. First is shock, surprise and confusion. The reaction that would be expected if a vocally opposed Gryffindor suddenly showed off their Dark Mark to the leader of the Light. Then the expression changes.

Comprehension. Disappointment. Acknowledgement. Rejection. He can almost read the thoughts forming: 'what else can be expected from a Black?'

He snaps. It is reactions like this that stopped him from asking for help earlier; that make him second-guess himself any time he is not acting like a perfect Gryffindor. He knew this was what he would see, but he didn't expect it to hurt quite so much.

"Don't look at me like that! It's not what you think."

"Very well, then. Explain to me how you come to wear Voldemort's own Mark." He sees a spark of hope in the old man's eyes and feels an answering one in himself. Despite the scepticism in his cold voice, the Headmaster is willing to listen, give him a chance to explain.

"It's not the Dark Mark... well I guess it is... but it's not His mark... only that's not quite right either… it wasn't supposed to be like this..."

He winces, knowing that the explanation isn't coming out right. All his planned speech is gone, leaving him only digging his hole deeper; his window of opportunity closing rapidly. He sighs in relief as a moment later James steps in.

"Professor, it's my fault." Dumbledore looks at the other boy in surprise, and Sirius almost hates the way that his manner immediately becomes so much more open and accepting. He can trust the son of a _Light_ family. "It was supposed to be a prank, just a quick joke for when he woke up, but it went wrong and now we can't get it off again. It's just muggle marker, but something happened."

Peter takes up the story next and, despite getting him into this in the first place, Sirius is thankful for his friends explaining where he cannot.

"We were doing alright, we hid it, and the others were researching other ways to try and remove it, but then, this afternoon… Sirius grabbed his arm, and the drawing was all inflamed, and looked like it really hurt, and…" He takes a shaky breath. "While it was just an unfortunately shaped picture we could deal with it, but if it acts like the real Dark Mark once…"

"Three times." Everyone turns to look at Sirius' hoarse interjection. "The Mark has burned three times."

"Professor," it is Remus who breaks the tense silence, "I never meant… we never meant it to go this far, we thought we'd checked everything. What went wrong, and how do we fix it?"

Dumbledore rises from his chair and starts pacing, mumbling to himself.

"It's possible that… or perhaps… but no, even that requires a blood link…"

"Umm, Professor, I did scratch myself when I first saw it." Sirius flushes. "I was sort of panicking trying to get it off…"

"Ah, that could be it then." Dumbledore focuses his gaze on his students again. "What do you boys know about magical portraits?"

The marauders look at each other, disconcerted by the apparent non-sequitur. James shrugs.

"They're paintings of people."

"Dead people." James rolls his eyes at Remus' correction.

"Yeah sure, most of them are. I mean, some of them have been around for centuries, and most of them are old fogeys in the first place."

"No, all of them. Magical portraits only activate when the subject was alive during creation but has since died. It's something to do with the enchanting process."

"But, Alice takes photos of us all the time?" James' eyes widen in comprehension even as Peter frowns.

"Of course! Photos move but they don't react, they're stuck inside the image."

Sirius turns back to the Headmaster, impatient with his friends' distraction.

"This is all very interesting, but what does it have to do with fixing this?"

"It has everything to do with your current predicament, Mr Black. Your friends have already identified the properties of two forms of magical images, your Mark is a third. The thing to understand, is that images are very powerful, magically speaking. I believe there is even a muggle saying, 'a picture is worth a thousand words'? In the case of magical portraits, a high concentration of magic and strict visual accuracy is used to link a subject to their portrait, allowing it to take a snapshot of their personality at the moment of their death. There is, however, another way to create a similar effect. The link between an image and its subject or effect can also be built up through repetition. The more magic is imbued in a certain image, and the more often it is used in such a way, the more readily magic will shape itself to such a purpose upon its creation. Indeed, this the whole premise of Runes as a discipline.

"Unfortunately you appear to have run into a side effect of this property. In creating the Dark Mark, Voldemort essentially created his own unique rune. He then imbued it with Dark magic and used it to form a network, magically tying his Death Eaters to each other and to himself. What I believe happened, is that when your friends played their prank, Mr Lupin here reproduced the form of the Dark Mark too accurately. The ambient magic of Hogwarts recognised the image, activating it and directed itself into forming a link with the existing network. We can only hope that the network structure is such that the addition will not be noticed."

Sirius feels his face paling as he works his way through the headmaster's rambling explanation. Surely not…

"Professor, what exactly are you telling me?"

"I'm sorry, my boy. But it would seem your friends have accidentally succeeded in creating a genuine Dark Mark."

He freezes, the words crashing through him. Dark Mark… genuine Dark Mark… on him…

He bolts. Leaping from his chair, he tears open the office door, letting it slam behind him as he half-falls down the staircase and into the corridor. He doesn't know where he is going, and he doesn't care; he just needs to get away. Away from Dumbledore's pity, away from his friends' guilt, but most of all away from himself and the vile brand he bears.

###

Dumbledore sighs as the door slams behind his fleeing student. It was not an easy thing for the child to hear, of course, but he had not expected quite such an extreme reaction. Instead he turns his gaze towards the boy's friends still sitting frozen in their chairs, expressions of horror and guilt creeping across their faces.

"I believe it might be best to give young Mr Black some time to come to terms with this information. I will of course do my best to find a way to break the connection, but as this is an apparently unprecedented development, it may take a while." He fixes them with a piercing gaze, seeming to linger on James for a moment. "In the meantime, I hope I don't have to tell you that it would be for the best to prevent anyone else from seeing the Mark until we can get this sorted out? Then off you trot, and please pass on to Mr Black that he may come speak to me about this any time he needs to."

Recognising the dismissal, the remaining trio rise and leave. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, they hesitate, unable to look at each other. Finally, James breaks the uncomfortable silence.

"Do you think we should…?" He trails off as Peter shakes his head.

"No, Professor Dumbledore has the right idea. Sirius probably needs a bit of space right now, and seeing us in particular is unlikely to help."

"But…"

"Besides," Remus nods to the window where the late afternoon light is rapidly fading, "I need to meet Madam Pomfrey soon. If Padfoot doesn't join us later, we can talk to him tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

_Note: Reposted, the first time didn't work properly._

* * *

When Sirius finally stops, panting, he is deep in the dungeons. He is not quite sure which way leads back to the rest of the castle, but he can't bring himself to care. He belongs here now, after all, in the dark, with the Snakes – junior Death Eaters, all. Speaking of which… He scowls as a familiar figure rounds the corner ahead, greasy dark hair hanging limply.

"Snivellus."

"Black." The reply is heavy with the usual disgust. "Wandering the dungeons and without your precious Potter in tow. Where are your other 'marauders'? Shouldn't you be preparing for your monthly adventure about now? What do you even do all night, frolic in the moonlight?"

Sirius freezes. He knows. Surely with a comment like that Snape knows about Moony; and the rest of them too? Then the other boy's sneer twitches, and Sirius starts breathing again. He knows this expression. It is not Snape's I-know-your-secret sneer, but you're-up-to-something-and-I'm-going-to-find-out-what-it-is; it's the one that says I'm-better-than-your-pathetic-Gryffindor-pranks.

He glares at his schoolyard enemy. The war might be outside Hogwarts' walls, but the battle lines are being drawn even within them. Sirius knows that as soon as they finish school the other boy will go running straight to Him. Grovelling and begging to bear His Mark. The same Mark, almost, that he himself currently wears.

And his friends really thought that he would use it as a joke. That he could laugh about it? Bad enough that they thought to draw it on him in the first place, but did they learn their lesson? No. Some things, you just don't joke about. It's not like they go around shouting that Remus is a werewolf – and ok, there is his nickname, and James talks about his 'furry little problem', but this is _different_ – so why is this ok?

A grin spreads across his face; it is not a pleasant expression. He can get back at both of them. He can give Snivellus a nasty fright while teaching his 'friends' a lesson at the same time.

Snape's sneer falters slightly and Sirius steps forward, crowding his personal space.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Go through the passage under the Whomping Willow tonight and you can find out. If you dare."

"Really, Black? How gullible do you think I am? What, afraid to take me on without Potter covering your back, so you're reduced to getting a tree to beat me up?"

"You don't even know about the knot you press to freeze it? Pathetic." He turns and strides off, a smile twisting his lips. It is done. He knows his rival and there is no way he will be able to resist a challenge like that.

###

Walking back to the Gryffindor tower, Sirius considers the next stage of his plan. He could leave things as they are, wait for Snivellus to find Moony and watch the fallout, but that doesn't seem enough somehow. Done like that, only Remus is really involved, and it is too easy to put all the blame on Snape. He wants his friends to know how Snivellus found out, why he told. After all, what point is the lesson if they don't finally learn from it?

Entering through the portrait hole he scans the common room, mostly empty despite the early hour. There. Peter is absent, but James is sitting by the fire, clearly waiting until it is time to join Moony. Heart clenching in anticipation of vengeance, he saunters over.

"Ah, James, just the person. You might want to go and check on Moony, I believe he is going to have an unexpected visitor tonight. Snivellus was so very eager to meet him."

James looks at him, eyes widening as he works his way through the cryptic message.

"You didn't…"

"What? I thought we were over the whole 'some things are too serious for pranks'." He tries to sound flippant but he can feel the anger bleeding through at the memory.

"I know you're upset, but that was an accident. You meant this." James gives him a look of utter disgust and betrayal before running to the portrait hole and out of the room.

Sirius glares after him. Great. So he cares about the wolf but not about him. After all, what's the worst that could happen? For the first time that evening his brain starts working. He has told Snape how to get to a transformed werewolf. Outcome one: Moony kills or even just seriously injures Snape, the Ministry finds out and 'puts down' Moony. Outcome two: Moony turns Snape, the Ministry finds out and puts down Moony, and he has a new werewolf with a personal grudge against him. Outcome three: Snape sees Moony and connects the dots but gets away, he tells everyone and the Ministry expels Remus at the least. Outcome four: James stops Snape in time and manages to talk them out of this mess, Remus finds out about his betrayal and all of his friends hate him and never speak to him again.

He collapses, shaking, into the chair James vacated so precipitously. How could he have done that? His eye falls on his left arm and he pushes up his sleeve to stare in revulsion at the drawing that prompted this whole mess. But no; it is his own fault. Now he feels like a Death Eater as well as looking like one: his family would be so proud.

He closes his eyes in despair. Hurry James.

* * *

 _A bit of a long A/N, but bear with me._

 _I apologise for leaving it on such a cliffhanger, but this is as much of the story as I plan to write, at least in the near future. From here, I assume canon kicks in again; James stops Snape, Dumbledore keeps everyone involved quiet, and Sirius' friends eventually forgive him. [I wasn't originally going to include the Willow scene at all, but it fitted, and it seems to be almost compulsory for a later-year Marauder fic.]_

 _To clarify, my Snape knows that the Marauders sneak out of the castle every full moon, but thinks they just make use of the extra light. Until he saw Moony, he didn't consider the possibility of a werewolf._

 _I'm not quite sure what happens with the Dark Mark. They might have found a way to get rid of it, it might have gone when Harry first killed Voldemort (the magic not being as strong as a genuine Dark Mark), or he might have still had it. If someone_ had _seen the Mark towards the end of the first war, especially if he still had it, that could certainly help explain why people were so ready to believe him guilty. [Hmm, there might be a sequel in that...]_


End file.
